


A Gentle Heart

by lilgulie5



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilgulie5/pseuds/lilgulie5
Summary: The Battle of Winterfell is over, but now Daenerys Targaryen must cope with living without one of her most trusted advisors. A one-shot I wrote after watching 8x03 with a dash of hope.





	A Gentle Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize that the loss of Jorah would make me feel so very emotional until I watched it unfold on my screen. I needed to write this as a way to say goodbye to the character and everything he meant to Dany.,

Daenerys was still shaking when they found her, still clinging to his body. It had been Jon who pulled her away despite all of her protests. He might have carried her into the castle, but she had no recollection of entering on her own volition. What she did remember were the bodies. Hundreds, nay thousands of corpses from the army of the dead, her Unsullied, her Dothraki, and Northerners alike. So different, yet so much the same in death. Through her tears she tried to search the dead for the faces of those dear to her, but she saw none. 

 

She vaguely remembered begging them to bring his body in from the field as they stripped her from her blood-soaked clothing. Missandei had lived, Grey Worm, too she was told. For that, she was grateful. The Starks had survived, too. Dany had half a mind to ask Sansa why she was helping her, but words would not come for either woman. 

 

“How?” she had managed to ask Jon.

 

“Arya,” he replied grimly. He pressed his lips to her forehead and left her to be tended to. 

 

Though they had passed many dead through the corridors, it seemed her chambers in the Guest House had remained untouched. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that none of it had happened, but death hung heavy in the air and weighed upon her heart. 

 

They had tried to give her milk of the poppy, but she refused. She had no desire to be drugged and to be numb. She had lost one of her closest friends and advisors, the commander of her Queensguard. He had died protecting her. The pain she felt was a ransom for the ultimate price he paid. She had once commanded him to find a cure and become well, but even Daenerys Targaryen could not command death to stay its hand. 

 

* * *

She woke up screaming or perhaps she had been woken up. In her dreams the dead were all around her once more, clinging to her, ripping at her garments and her hair. No matter how many she fended off with her dragonglass blade, more kept coming until she screamed aloud in anguish of heart. 

 

Someone was holding her, firmly enough to let her know she was not alone, yet gently enough to know that she was safe. He stroked her hair as her chest heaved with sobs. 

 

“Dany,” Jon’s voice soothed into her ear as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

 

She bunched his shirt in her fists and held him close. As she began to become aware of her surroundings she noticed light peeking in through the thick curtains pulled across her windows. 

 

“It’s daylight?” she croaked. 

 

“It’s past midmorning,” he confirmed. 

 

“I shouldn’t have slept so late,” Dany said. She pushed herself out of his arms and tried to stand from the bed, but her feet were unsteady beneath her and she nearly buckled to the floor. 

 

“You barely slept. Tossed and turned for what was left of the night and when you did sleep you kept waking from a nightmare.” 

 

She had not remembered any of that, save for the nightmares. 

 

“And how much have you slept, Jon?” she asked, reaching up to cup his cheek. He winced as her thumbed brushed over a cut, but he did not flinch away from her touch

 

“Enough.” 

 

Dany glanced over to the chair by her bedside and back at Jon. 

 

“You’ve been here all night.” It was not a question, nor was it an accusation, and he merely nodded in response. She wrapped her arms around him again, wanting to stay there for as long as he would let her. 

 

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said at length. “If you hadn’t been shaking so badly when we found you, I probably would’ve thought you were dead.” 

 

“I feel dead.” 

 

“But you’re not. You’re alive. We’re all alive.” 

 

“Not  _ all _ ,” she replied. 

 

“No. Not all.” 

 

“How many?” 

 

“More than were left standing. So many more. Edd, Lyanna Mormont, Qhono, Beric, Jorah, and Theon.”

 

“We need to burn their bodies.” 

 

“Aye, we will. The ground is far too hard to bury-.” 

 

“We need to burn them or else the Dothraki won’t be able to ride into the night lands.” 

 

Another nod. He did not have a response for that. She had not meant to be cross with him, but though she had no physical wounds save for scrapes and bruises, the emotional wounds were still raw and fresh. The death of Ser Barristan had hurt her deeply, but the loss of Jorah shook her to her core. He had been one of the first people to believe in her and though he had hurt her, he had shown her in numerous ways that he only ever wanted to serve her and see her realize her destiny. 

 

“House Mormont is gone,” she realized mournfully. 

 

“But not without a fight. Lyanna Mormont killed a giant before she died.” 

 

“Of course she did.”

 

Dany could not help but smile at that. 

 

“And Jorah died protecting me.” 

 

“He did what any member of your Queensguard would do.” 

 

“I should’ve done more for him.” 

 

“Dany,” Jon said, tilting her face up to meet his. “You did everything you could. You picked up a damn sword. You  _ fought _ off wights.” 

 

“I needed to be more than that.” 

 

“I could ask of nothing more from my queen.” 

 

“Jon…” 

 

“I don’t want the bloody throne, Daenerys. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted. That didn’t suddenly change the day I found out Rhaegar Targaryen was my father.”

 

“You say that  _ now _ but-”

 

_ “But _ nothing. I’ve stared death in the face and come back. You’ve fought the dead now. I don’t know why the Lord of Light brought me back. Maybe I’ll never know, but I know that I love you. That might be the only thing I’m certain of.” 

 

“Do you love me enough to be my king?” 

 

“Aye.”

 

“Enough to rule beside me and keep my counsel?” 

 

“Aye,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards. “More than enough. Just promise me one thing.” 

 

Dany cocked her head to the side and waited. 

 

“Once you take your throne, you’ll allow me to bring you back to the North every now and then.” 

 

“Of course,” she breathed. “I believe there is a waterfall I’d wish to spend a thousand years near, but I’d settle for even just another day.”

 

* * *

She left the feast when everyone was in their cups. Although they had waited a moon’s turn before announcing their betrothal, Dany still did not have it in her heart to celebrate. Jorah would have told her in his knowing way she had a gentle heart, she knew that much. Jon had understood when she stood from her seat at the table, pressed a kiss to the side of his head, and whispered in his ear that she was tired. Now, more than ever, he cautioned her to rest. 

 

She had waved off Missandei, too, letting her trusted friend know that she was alright with a simple nod. There was no reason everyone else should not enjoy themselves. They had won a hard fought victory against the direst of odds. She would not take their joy from them. 

 

Once back in her chambers, Dany undressed herself, slipping out of the crimson coat and black dress in favor of her violet nightshift. She pulled it over her head and smoothed her hands across her belly. Though barely noticeable, she could tell a difference already and Jon had insisted that he could, too. 

 

Before she settled into her chair by the fire, she went to the small wooden chest next to her desk and lifted the lid. It held some of her most treasured possessions, some of which had been with her since she lived in Braavos, others added more recently, but what she was looking for had been given to her the day she wed Drogo. Carefully, she reached for one of the books given to her by Jorah, a history of the Seven Kingdoms. 

 

Dany pulled a blanket over her shoulder and eased into the chair. Although the ground had begun to thaw and the promise of spring grew with each passing day, she still found herself slightly chilled. Opening the book to the page she left off on the night before, Daenerys began to read a tale she had read half a dozen times already, but the words were a balm to her heart. 

 

_ “Above all else, a queen must know how to listen,” Alysanne Targaryen often said. At Castle Black, she proved those words... _

 


End file.
